


Round Robin

by fuzipenguin



Series: Drunken Shenanigans [4]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Other, Relationship Counseling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl gets some counseling from friends</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round Robin

                He knocked on the door in front of him, a little bit in a daze. When nothing happened after several minutes, he knocked again, a bit louder. A bit more desperately. No, not desperately. More like … urgently. Yes, that was a better word.

                It seemed to do the trick. Moments later, Prowl heard a shuffling sound from within the room. Then a thump as if someone ran into the door. Finally it unlocked and slid open a fraction of an inch.

                A dimly lit visor peered around the crack in the door. “What?” Jazz croaked. “Someone’s spark’d better be guttering, or I swear… Prowl…? Prowl, are you ok?”

                Jazz straightened from his slouch and shoved the door wider, his optics brightening as he looked up at Prowl. “Get in here, don’t mind the mess,” he urged before Prowl could reply. Jazz carefully reached out to brush the back of his digits against Prowl’s hand, and he dazedly blinked down at the black fingers. When he didn’t shrug off Jazz’s touch, he shorter mech slid his hand up to grip Prowl’s elbow and gently tugged him inside.

                “I am fully functional,” Prowl replied automatically, flinching back from the sudden flick of a lamp turning on just inside the room.

                “Uh huh,” Jazz replied in obvious disbelief. “That’s why you’re staggering around everywhere.”

                “I’m not… oof!” Prowl promptly tripped on a box he could have sworn hadn’t been there two seconds ago. Jazz steadied him, and continued to lead him further into the dimly lit room. “I am perhaps a _little_ off balance,” Prowl admitted, trusting in Jazz’s direction.

                Thankfully, Jazz didn’t say another word. Instead, he brought Prowl over the bed, forcing him to a stop a few feet away from it. Then Jazz leaned over and started shoving at the mound of blankets haphazardly scattered across the berth surface. “Wake up and scoot over. Prowl needs some room.”

                The bedding suddenly thrashed about and then more light filled the room, a soft yellow glow emanating from Wheeljack’s helm fins as his head emerged from under the blankets. "Prowl? Wassthat who was at the door? Oh, hey, Prowl! Sit down; you look like slag.”

                From behind Wheeljack, a soft snore rattled up from the tangle of covers. Prowl climbed out of his daze enough to realize there were four pedes tangled together at the end of the bed and the distinct tang of ozone and burnt circuitry in the air. He turned wide optics to Jazz as Wheeljack wriggled about some more.

                “I have interrupted. I apologize, I will leave…” Prowl muttered, a little embarrassed. He shuffled in place and started to turn away towards the exit.

                He knew Jazz accepted many a mech into his bed, but he had never run across the actual proof of it until this moment. Prowl now remembered witnessing Ratchet and Wheeljack sandwiching Jazz between them last night. It obviously hadn’t lasted long though, because Jazz had been the one to steer Prowl back to his own quarters. Prowl barely remembered the trip through the halls and had only a vague recollection of Jazz’s amused smile as he half carried Prowl into his room. Apparently after Prowl had been deposited onto his berth, Jazz had returned to the party and picked up where he had left off with Ratchet and Wheeljack.

                “No, you don’t!” Jazz announced, grabbing Prowl and swinging him around. The back of his knees hit the berth and that along with the pressure of Jazz’s guiding hands caused Prowl to plop gracelessly onto the edge of the bed. “Ratch’s out, ‘Jack doesn’t care, and I can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve showed up at my door. Something’s bothering you. Tell me and let old Jazz take care of it.”

                Prowl looked over his shoulder to see Wheeljack resettling himself, sitting cross-legged at the head of the bed, and leaning against Ratchet’s broad back. One of the multitude of blankets were being dragged around Wheeljack’s shoulders and when he saw Prowl watching, Wheeljack offered another, smaller throw.

                After a moment’s consideration, Prowl took it, carefully placing it over his lap. He felt strangely comforted by the cloth and gave Wheeljack a small, grateful smile. Jazz made a surprised noise and walked over to his desk to grab the chair sitting there. He brought it back and turned it around, perching atop it with his chin propped up on the backing.

                “Talk to me, Prowl,” Jazz said softly.

                At the sight of both of their encouraging expressions, Prowl’s frame sagged, his sensory panels drooping to rest on the berth. Or rather, one dropped to the berth, and the other landed on Wheeljack’s thigh. Before he could apologize, Wheeljack leaned forward and carefully embraced it, peering around the edge of it up into Prowl’s face.

                He and Wheeljack were nowhere near as close as Jazz and himself, but Prowl _did_ count Wheeljack within his circle of friends. Surrounded by the familiarity and safety of Jazz’s quarters, Prowl allowed the casual touch he would normally avoid from others besides Jazz. Just like the throw across his lap, the handling of his sensory wing actually set him at ease instead of inducing anxiety.

                “I apologized. It went… well.”

                Jazz’s visor dimmed for a moment and a look of confusion crossed his face. “Apologized to who?”

                Prowl shifted in place, bringing his hands out from under the throw to place them in his lap and fiddle with his fingers. “Skyfire, among others.”

                “Ahh. You remember last night, do you?” Jazz questioned. “Wasn’t sure you would.”

                “My battle computer stored the memories until my processor cleared this morning. As soon as I reviewed the files, I went round to the offended parties and made my apologies.”

                “There was more than Skyfire?” Wheeljack asked curiously.

                “Yes, I… well…” Prowl dropped his head in shame, “I said discourteous things to Prime. And I scratched Sunstreaker’s paint.”

                “What did ya say to Prime? I missed that,” Jazz replied. Prowl gave him a warning Look.

                “I would rather not repeat it,” Prowl said stiffly, feeling another hot wave of mortification. Commenting on his leader’s shapely aft had _not_ been the finest moment of Prowl’s career. Fortunately, Prime had forgiven him immediately and waved off Prowl’s halting apology. He had fled Optimus’s quarters with a mixed sense of shame and relief. It would be a long time before Prowl could fully meet Prime’s optics without feeling a spike of embarrassment.

                Sunstreaker’s visit had been relatively smooth as well, although it had smarted to apologize to the unruly frontliner whom Prowl had punished so many times before. Thankfully, Sideswipe had still been in recharge or Prowl had no doubt his apology would have gone much differently. As it was, he had had to struggle to get the words out. Afterwards, Sunstreaker had stared at him for a long moment and then shrugged, stating ‘fair’s fair’ before stepping back and shutting the door in Prowl’s face. Prowl had a sneaking suspicion that it was the twins who had spiked his drink in the first place. Not that he had proof, of course.

                “All right, all right!” Jazz said, holding up his hands in surrender. “You don’t have to. I’m assuming Prime waved things off, and you’re still in one piece so Sunny let you off the hook too. So… Skyfire? That’s who has your transistors in a twist?”

                Prowl gave a small nod.

                The soothing fingers stroking Prowl’s captured sensory panel stilled. “What did you, uh, say to Skyfire exactly? Last night, I mean?”

                Prowl looked down to see Wheeljack peering up at him with a creased forehelm, and his panel twitched in the engineer’s grip. “I told him… that I liked his wings.”

                “And then he waved his own in ‘Fire’s face,” Jazz added, a little gleefully.  A quick glimpse at Jazz revealed a small smirk. Of _course_ Jazz would think this was hilarious.

                “Jazz pulled me aside before I said anything else. But it was still inappropriate, so I apologized this morning.”

                Wheeljack suddenly scrambled closer, energy field a wash of eagerness. “What did he say?”

                Prowl jerked in surprise at Wheeljack’s increased interest.

                “He… he said that there was no need to apologize and that he understood the situation. Then… then he said ‘yes, if the offer still stands’,” Prowl said slowly.

                “Offer?” Wheeljack’s fins flashed a slow strobe of confusion.

                “To touch his sensory panels,” Jazz supplied, helm cocked to the side as he stared at Prowl. Prowl shifted uncomfortably under that considering gaze. “Interesting development.”

                “But not a new one!” Wheeljack practically crowed, immediately lowering his voice as Ratchet grumbled in recharge behind him. “Skyfire’s been staring after you for months now, Prowl. Didn’t… didn’t anyone else notice?” he asked hesitantly, looking between Prowl and Jazz.

                Prowl stared wide-opticked at Jazz, almost relieved when he shook his head. Prowl was often oblivious to these things and relied on Jazz to interpret certain social cues for him. “Naw, mech. Gotta admit, I didn’t see that one at all,” he said ruefully. “’Course I don’t spend as much time with him as you do, Jacks.”

                “So what’s the problem?” Wheeljack asked, shrugging it off and turning back to Prowl. “He likes you, you like him. Go back to his room right now and enjoy yourself a little.”

                Shaking his head, Prowl fisted the throw between his fingers. “It’s not that easy,” he replied miserably.

                “Why not, Prowler?” Jazz questioned softly. “I’m a little surprised you’ve been eying him, to be honest, but Skyfire’s a good mech. You know that. It’s a good match, actually. What’s stopping you?”

                Prowl turned his head staring sightlessly at the far wall. “I’m second in command. It’s highly…”

                “Aw, screw that,” Jazz complained, reaching forward and shoving Prowl’s closest knee. “Inappropriate, my aft. You deserve to be happy, and it’s not like there’s a whole lotta options here on Earth.”

                Prowl didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Jazz ducked his head, peering up into Prowl’s face. “But that’s not all, is it? What else is holding you back, brother?”

                In an uncharacteristic show of vulnerability, Prowl bit at his lower lip and lowered his gaze. “I… he… he called me handsome.”

                “Well, that’s… cuz you _are_ ,” Wheeljack replied immediately, giving him a nudge. Wheeljack smiled encouragingly at him when Prowl looked over.

                “I know,” Prowl said, without any hint of pride. “I’ve been told that my whole life. But is that all that I am? Others in the past have certainly thought so,” he muttered bitterly.

                He had been in a half dozen relationships over the millennia and all of them had ended quickly. Because he was ‘cold’ or ‘withdrawn’ or his ‘personality didn’t live up to his exterior’. Prowl had sworn he would never again enter a relationship based on physical attraction.

                “ _Prowl_!” Wheeljack chided. “While you haven’t known Skyfire long, I can assure you he’s not that type of mech. He adores everything about you. Especially that big ole’ brain of yours.”

                “Skyfire’s no love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Don’t have to be best buds with him to know what,” Jazz added, gently squeezing Prowl’s knee.

                “I don’t know…” They had a point. Skyfire had a good spark; no one among the crew could say anything bad about the large flier. Still… Prowl remembered all those former hurts and just didn’t know if he had it in him to go through it again.

                “You _want_ to know? Fraggin’ talk to him. You’re not going to get anywhere pussyfooting around here!” Ratchet’s growl rose up from beneath the bedding, startling all three of them. Prowl’s head whipped around, and he looked down to see Ratchet’s optics dimly onlined and staring back at him.

                “Ratchet! I… we didn’t mean to wake you,” Prowl rushed to apologize, cringing a little in the face of Ratchet’s glare. The medic got so little rest to begin with; Prowl felt quite badly that he had interrupted the other’s well deserved recharge.

                “Well, you did,” Ratchet replied bluntly. “But I don’t mind. They’re right. Skyfire’s a good mech and an even better match for you. If you’d just let it happen. May not work out... but it’s not going to be because he wants to ‘face you and then walk away,” he informed Prowl, voice gentling. “Give him a chance. Talk to him.”

                Prowl turned back around to Jazz, his closest friend and brother in all but name. Jazz’s visor winked at him as he nodded. “I say give it a try. If he ends up hurting you, well… you don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that,” he said with a conspiratorial wink of his visor.

                “ _Jazz!_ You are unbelievable!” Wheeljack scolded, swatting at the saboteur’s leg. Jazz laughed, twitching away and in that moment, with some of his most dear friends surrounding and supporting him, Prowl let himself hope.

 

~ End


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